Panacea
by raileht
Summary: A collection of anything and everything Diane and Kurt…because they are wonderful together.
1. Button

**Panacea**  
by: raile

**Summary: **A collection of anything and everything Diane and Kurt…because they are wonderful together.**  
Disclaimer: **the ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.**  
Rating: **T, to be safe

**Note: **_originally published at the Christine Baranski Community. Ongoing-currently at no. 45.  
_

**Also, **rating may change with each chapter and this covers any and everything under the sun in terms of genre and AU/Non-AU, etc. It's a smorgasbord of everything that pops into mind.

* * *

**One: Button**

_The sun was high up already by the time she emerged from the bathroom and she barely spared a glance at her rumpled bed. Only one side was disturbed, as if somehow even while she slept, she kept a place ready for someone she'd known long before letting Morpheus take her away wasn't coming. It wasn't any sign of moping or anything of the sort, just a habit she seemed to have formed without knowing._

_She's just grown used to having him there._

_But she was late and she doesn't want to dwell on that because dwelling led her into the darker recesses of her mind where she was sure she didn't want to go. She likes what they have, likes that sometimes she will come to bed alone—it just doesn't mean she has to be happy about it though._

_So she ignored the bed and instead, proceeded to grab her outfit for the day only to step on something just as she entered her spacious walk-in closet. Curious, she glanced down, moving one elegant bare foot aside to reveal a something circular, red and flat._

_It was a button._

_And she didn't have to reach far into her memory bank to realize just where and why that particular piece from what was now a slightly damaged Chanel blouse was there to begin with—it was two days prior and it included Chinese food, a healthy debate over whether or not the Patriots had a shot that season and with her once again pilfering a much too large button-down that wasn't hers._

_She decided she deserved to take a shirt from him—the one she had torn off of him herself—after he ruined her blouse. And he let her._

_Not because it was going to replace the clothing he ruined, he said, but rather because he liked seeing her wearing his clothes. He thought it was sexy._

_She smiled, a goofy smile she would have murdered anyone who witnessed it. Luckily, she was alone. Instead, she picked up the button, intending to put it somewhere safe, if only to remind him what he'd done. She decided maybe, if she was lucky, she might just get another large comfy button down, preferably in plaid._

_Because sometimes she liked wearing his clothes a lot more than she liked wearing her own._


	2. Seventeen

Two: **Seventeen **

_He's ignoring the fact that he was being ignored._

_Instead, he read the book he had absently grabbed from her table. It was something about someone, he wasn't paying attention. He ignored that too because he's been "reading" the same page for the last fourteen minutes and he still can't remember a specific sentence from it._

_Outside, some feet away, she's talking to a younger man who was apparently a lawyer. He can't remember his name and he blamed that on the fact that their introduction was brief and hurried. She was trying to finish up so they can get out—she promised him she would be out by six._

_Then Mr. Bright Smile came, waving a thick folder and asked for an opinion—the opinion had her following him out as he exited her office. The following turned into a small powwow outside, just beyond the glass doors. The powwow involved a shared laugh and a playful pat on his shoulder._

_Not that he noticed—he's too busy reading._

_What was his name? John? Jake? Jeff? Something with a J. He decided to just call him 'the punk kid from legal aid' and chose not to feel bad for calling him a punk since he knew nothing of Mr. Save the World. And yeah, he's calling him a kid too because he can. And no, he doesn't have anything against the kid. Or the fourteen minutes he's stolen from him._

_He glanced at his watch—scratch that and change fourteen to seventeen._

_Maybe he should try and actually read? Who cares?_

_Before he could decide though, the doors flew open and she was there, smiling at him and there's a glow about her and he knows he's missed something in the middle of counting the minutes. For a moment, he can't help the frown that appeared on his face._

_Fortunately, she was smiling and was much too happy to notice anything amiss and plopped herself next to him. They've found something to prove their client wasn't where she was accused of being the night in question—the nineteen year old former Rutgers student could go free. Gradually, his frown faded._

_Not because she's there—although that counts a hell of a lot too—but because he realized why she was practically glowing._

_She was happy. Not just any kind of happy, she was happy she _helped_ someone. An innocent. And she was happy without any other reason other than she _helped_. The Legal Aid move was working out well for her, helping her fulfill something she hadn't even known she was searching for before she pursued this particular project._

_She kissed him, he returned the kiss with a smile of his own—he was proud of her and she's incredibly happy._

_"Let's get out of here, cowboy," her smile was tired but radiant, "I can hear my tub calling our names and god, do I need that right now."_

_And just like that any thought about the attractive dark skinned lawyer was out the window faster than he could say 'Legal Aid'._


	3. Coward

Three: **Coward **

_"You've reached the personal voicemail of Kurt Mc—"_

_Rolling her eyes, she hung up, frowning before tossing her phone aside and kicked off her high heels carelessly before allowing herself to fall on her couch. She stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other and an arm thrown above her head while the let the other lay across her stomach. There was nothing to be done except stare at the ceiling._

_To everyone, she was waiting out a case she was working with Alicia Florrick and a team of other associates. It wasn't unusual to see the boss stay in the office late, especially with a high priority case in a tight lock. They were in limbo with a case against Celeste Serrano again and she had about four associates picking apart their strategy and putting it back together with Chinese food and Red Bull. She had relieved Alicia for the night, giving her a chance to return to her family while she informed her she was 'holding down the fort' just in case._

_It wasn't unusual and no one took notice of the decision and if they questioned her reasoning, no one did so in her face. That was fine with her._

_By the crack of dawn, Diane was sure her younger employees would be passed out and by seven-thirty, they would be dressed and ready to go to for their nine o'clock court schedule. The case was shaky at best and she knew her associates were naturally terrified of going home and ending up being the cause of a loss. Or at least be the one ending up with the blame._

_She was going to use that as her cover and pretend she wasn't being a coward by staying in her office. Justice was safe at the farm, along with Kurt's dog, Buster. It was late, the drive was long and she had gone against going home to her own place that night. She would stay in the office, blinds drawn and her spare set of clothes at the ready for her in the morning. She was thankful being the boss came with the perks that included a private washroom. No one would think twice about the whole matter._

_There would be no going home for her tonight, not until she heard from Kalinda herself. Until then, she was going to have to get to know her couch again—she hadn't quite done this a while, intentionally or not._

_As she lay, she kept an ear out for her phone, waiting for any call but none came. Her eyes drifted close, her mind finally allowing itself to rest if only after she reminded herself over and over again they had an excellent security system and as well as a secure building. She wasn't being a coward, not at all._

_By seven o'clock that morning, she managed to amuse herself by scaring the bejesus out of her slumbering employees, catching them off guard as she entered the conference room where an impromptu slumber party had occurred. They easily startled awake when they felt her presence, scattering immediately to the direction of their respective perches. _

_They were going to be getting dressed and ready in the office and while she could sympathize with them—she'd gone through worst in her time, she was sure— that didn't mean she couldn't have her share of fun._

_As they were leaving for court, her phone finally alerted her to a message in her voicemail._

_"Sorry I missed you last night. I'm heading back home now. I'll see you tonight, okay? Have a good day."_

_And while she was happy to have heard from him, she couldn't help but feel the frown that appeared on her face—Kalinda had yet to call._

_By the end of the day, promptly at six o'clock, she was coming back to her office. Celeste and her client finally accepted their offer in the settlement, walking away with far more than they'd originally been willing to give but also considerably less than what their client would have had to pay had they lost in court._

_She walked into her office and found him there, a grin ready and her coat on his arm. She couldn't help the smile she gave him even if she tried, "Hello."_

_"Hey," he kissed her before offering her coat, to which she gladly allowed him to help her with, "Sorry I couldn't get back last night. Did I mention I hate lawyers?"_

_"Once or twice," she smirked, grabbing her bag and ignored her couch as they passed by it together, "Your place?"_

_Kurt gave her a look before nodding, "You okay with that?"_

_"Mhm," she nodded, "Justice is still there…and you owe me dinner."_

_"Sounds good," he smiled, "Let's go home."_

_"Let's," she smiled and they walked towards the elevator._

_Her phone rang just as they reached the elevators and she didn't even bother to tell him to wait before answering immediately, "Yes, Kalinda?"_

_"I found him," came the familiar voice on the other end, "He's in Arizona…I've confirmed it, photos with time stamps and a friend sent a surveillance of his home. Jeffrey Spellman left Chicago two days ago."_

_She felt her heart drop in relief, "You're sure?"_

_"Yeah. He's settling in…I don't think he's a threat anymore. Whatever that was at your place the other day…it was probably nothing. I had a friend take a look at the neighborhood and tested the security system of your brownstone. Everything's intact, undisturbed."_

_Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kurt waiting patiently by the doors, leaning back on his heels and glancing at her now and then, "Thank you, Kalinda…that's great news. I'll-I'll…"_

_"I know," the voice flowed easily from the other side, her tone never changing but Diane cold hear that she meant it, "You can go home. It's okay."_

_Normally, she would shrug off such blatant display of emotion____—_blatant for Kalinda anyway___—_from an employee, but she didn't. Kalinda was different, more so in terms of what she knew about the Spellman matter and Diane was thankful, despite her initial intention of never letting anyone know of her mess. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow, Kalinda."

_"You got it," and then the other line cut-off._

_Diane hung up as well, tucking her phone into her pocket before turning to face her lover._

_"Everything okay?" he asked, curious._

_"Everything's fine," she smiled brightly, "Just some work thing. It's over now."_

_"Alright," he smiled, "Good because I was about ready to have a cellphone ban for tonight again."_

_She smirked, "Mhm. How did that work out for you last time?"_

_"Not well, but I'm a hopeless dreamer."_

_"With the dreamy smile to match," she added sarcastically._

_"You think I'm dreamy?"_

_"Shut up," she snarked playfully as they both stepped into the elevator._

_By the time the doors closed, she was kissing him again, this time with considerably less on her mind and was glad to be able to concentrate fully on him. If he was surprised by her sudden willingness to display affection in the office, it didn't show._

_That night, Diane lay next to her lover, thankful that whatever had sent her running the night before seemed to be over. She had never told him of Jeffrey Spellman, never told him of what the man was capable of and what she had done to feel the need to fear the released convict. She had hoped she never had to._

_And with the information Kalinda had gotten, she hoped she was well and clear from having to do so._

_What he didn't know couldn't hurt him._


	4. Favorite

Four: **Favorite **

_Her favorite part whenever he's there to accompany her to events and parties?_

_Ever the gentleman, he always gets her a drink and knows exactly how she wants them, it was a constant. But that's not it—any trained monkey can get a drink. It's a bonus, at best._

_Her true favorite part?_

_When he's next to her or behind her and his hands are never far. On the small of her back, on her waist, on her hip even when he's feeling bold—or when there's someone he feels he needs to be subtly told there were some things in the party that was off limits, meaning her._

_Simple things, simple gestures, but she loved it. The way she saw it, it was like he was always there to remind her he was never far, that he was always close by, giving her support without complaint about letting her be herself. She liked that he wasn't intimidated by her career or her world. That was rare for someone like her._

_He was confident and _that_ was sexy—very much so._

_And it makes him incredibly irresistible._

_There's more though because there's also her _absolute_ favorite._

_Above confidence, above having him continuously touch her, above making her feel something that might as well be bliss. Above having a man on her arm that she couldn't help but show off. Above pretty much everything._

_It was simple: when while in the middle of a party, whether or not she's paying attention to him or preoccupied with someone else, he slips his hand into hers and lets their fingers lace together._

_Subtle, very subtle and she's the only one who ever really knows._

_Yes, her absolute favorite above her man making her feel beautiful and desirable? Having him hold her hand—a simple gesture, but incredibly powerful, she had just found out with him._

_When he had first done it, she had suddenly forgotten she was talking to someone from McCallum & Donaldson telling an amusing story to their little huddle. She turned to him but he didn't even look at her and instead, paid attention to the gesticulating lawyer in front of her. She hid her smile and went back to listening, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and managed to catch the punch line just in time._

_There's nothing grand about it, it's something people would easily miss—it's something he does just for her._

_It was comforting, alluring, incredible—a lot of things, all good and great because as high school as it sounds, their hands simply fit._

_And she loves it._


	5. Kiss

Five: **Kiss**

_The first time they kissed, he'd stolen it._

_He hasn't stopped doing that and he knew she liked it._

_So whenever he can, he steals kisses from her._

_Even when she's in the middle of saying something, telling him about some factoid she found fascinating, some amusing story, maybe even gossip that delighted her or just plain 'work stuff', he'll steal a kiss when he can. Sometimes she stops and kisses him back immediately, others she would pretend to be affronted, slapping him on the shoulder or at the arms though they never hurt, couldn't even kill a fly._

_Sometimes she even pulls back, pretending to be mad but it's always playful. He plays along when he feels like it, but more often, he doesn't give it much thought and goes right back to kissing her. And she'll willingly kiss him right back._

_It's playful, a very pleasant way of showing affection._

_And truthfully, there are a lot of ways stealing a kiss could end, so many ways._

_But only one thing remains a constant when it came to stealing a kiss from his lover—_

_…whenever he pulls back, there's always a smile on her face._

_And it simply makes him want to kiss her even more._


	6. Birds

Six: **Birds**__

_She's openly laughing at him._

_He decided to let it go and—oh, goddamnit, what the hell just happened?—let her have her fun._

_"This is so sad and so funny at the same time," she cackled, "I can't decide."_

_He didn't say anything—gotcha, you little snorting bastard!_

_"We do need to leave soon, you know."_

_He's already dressed and he knows she's going to take at least half an hour more before—yes! Who's the man, you stupid pigs?! Who's the man?!—they can actually go._

_"Okay, I'm going to go and finish getting ready," she gave another laugh, "And if you're still hung up on that thing, I'm going to find someone else to dance with tonight."_

_"Mhm, mmkay," you say absently, pretending not to hear because, yeah, you may be—oh, crap, this one's going to be a doozy—preoccupied, but that doesn't mean you can't tease her. It's called multitasking._

_"And this is the moment I'll always remember when the romance finally died," the delivery was set in dry sarcasm but he didn't miss that she didn't quite find this as funny anymore. He discovered a while back she did not take too well to being ignored._

_Just one shot and—hooey! Got that in ONE, baby! Yes! He's the cool one today, people._

_"I'm wearing red, if that counts for anything."_

_"I like you in red," you said, just as she begins to huff away. She's cute like that sometimes. But it's a secret._

_"You talking to me? Or that stupid bird?"_

_"No stupid bird," he smirked, "And I like the tiny blue ones that come in bursts more."_

_"Oh, good god," he didn't need to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes._

_"I'm kidding," about the whole conversation, but he really does like that burst of blue little things. He can't say no to the black one too._

_"And I'm saying if I hear that Angry Birds theme ONE MORE TIME, I will throw your phone out of the car!"_


	7. Curl

Seven: **Curl**__

_He has a lot of things going for himself._

_And one of the constant things he's heard from former lovers and girlfriends is that he's a 'good listener'. He doesn't quite know what to make of that so instead, he keeps doing what he does and hopes he doesn't inadvertently change something and end up being one of those 'self-centered asses who never listen'._

_With Diane, he does a lot of listening. And he does it willingly._

_There's something about her voice, the way she speaks. He likes listening to her, even when she's angry or on the verge of tearing someone apart with her bare hands. She could probably read him the phonebook and he'd never tire of her._

_"And I just _know_ it was Eli," she seethed, storming back into their bedroom and viciously cinching the tie of her robe around her slim waist. "That son of a bitch! How dare he go after Will like that…"___

_He sat back, his position on her bed affording him the perfect vantage point to observe her as she bustled about her room. There really isn't much to do—everything is neat, everything in place but he knew she had energy to burn to calm down so she's walking about picking up things, putting them back, picking up and moving. He was sure by the next night things would be back to where they originally were._

_"And Julius siding with Eli…" she shook her head and she saw her hands fist at her sides, the edge of her lavender silk robe fluttering about her thighs, "Singing about 'woe is me' with the caseload he got from Will—the gall of that man. He makes it sound like we parked a truck in his inbox and threw everything at him! We delegated everything, for god's sake."_

_He almost feels sorry for the men she was currently railing against. He knows they've managed to get to her enough for her anger to take root and could not even imagine what retribution she was going to level against them. It wouldn't even be quick or immediately shattering. He knew her, it was going to be subtle, most likely in tiny little jabs they wouldn't even notice until it all adds up and they're left devastated. He's seen her done it and, frankly, he was glad she hasn't reached that level of anger when it came to him._

_Poor bastards won't even know what hit them._

_But they're the ones who've also put her in this state—he's not inclined to really give a damn about them so he mentally shrugged them off. Better them than him._

_"Men," she turned to him, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. "You are a bunch of whiny overgrown children who never give a damn until-until…" she paused then let out a growl of her own, frustration winning out as she whirled around, turning her back on him, "Damn it!"_

_"On behalf of our gender, I apologize," he said sincerely, "Sure we have bastards, but we're not all the same."_

_She stopped, turning to face him and sighed, shaking her head before getting on the bed next to him, "No, you're not…thank goodness for that," she sighed, settling in next to him and he gladly opened his arms for her._

_"I can shoot them, if you want," he whispered, as if sharing a secret with her, "Make it look like an accident. I can do that. I'm very good at my job."_

_"Got any silver bullets?" she muttered then shook her head, laying her head on his shoulder and sighed once more, "I just want this day to end. They're sharks in the water…circling in, trying to take Will out. And once they're done with him, I'm next."_

_"That's not going to happen," he said simply, "You won't let it."_

_She huffed, "It's Will I'm more worried about."_

_"He has you, he'll be okay," and he truly believes that because he's seen the lengths she's willing to go for the man. In all honesty, he's given up trying to discern or define the truth behind that particular relationship of theirs. And that's fine with him—Will, as far as he knew, was a good man._

_"I don't want to think about this anymore," she mumbled, eyes closing as she let out a breath. He doesn't have to look at her to know she was tiring, her anger spent for the night and her energy draining quickly._

_"Don't," he commanded gently, "Sleep."_

_"Mhm," she nodded, "I hate men."_

_"I know," he grinned, pulling his arms tighter around her, "Annihilate and eradicate them tomorrow."_

_"Good idea," she muttered, the telling slur of her speech evident, "I'll have their heads…"_

_"On a silver platter," he chuckled, "Go to sleep, Diane."_

_And with that, she curled up against him and did just as he said._


	8. Fall

Eight: **Fall**__

_It was so green._

_Then it turned into blue with puffs of white about._

_Trees and then the sky, the beautiful sky that occupied her vision and nothing else but she couldn't appreciate it as she initially had before this whole fiasco began._

_She's pretty sure the lingering throb in the back of her head was not a good thing. God, of all the things she could get herself into? Give her a forty-four million dollar lawsuit any day, she's fine and dandy. Give her a horse and a terrain then throw in a couple hundred trees and a helmet? Disaster._

_Does the fact that she was an excellent rider and had been a trained equestrian when she was younger wound her ego in any way? Yes. Good god, she couldn't even remember _how_ she went from having fun with a brisk gallop to falling off the back of the aptly named horse, Wilder. They'd been getting along so well, what a shame.___

_Not that she had time to lament the loss of what could have been the beginning of a beautiful friendship with the magnificent beast, she needed to get up. Oh, hell, this was not her finest moment._

_"Diane?"_

_She groaned, knowing better though she ignored everything and sat up anyway, hand placed delicately on the back of her head and let out another groan. He was there within seconds, the loud thundering of hooves seemingly magnified in her state. She winced as she probed her head with a little bit of pressure, shutting her eyes tightly._

_He cursed under his breath and that was unlike him but she ignored it, feeling him settling next to her, gentle hands landing carefully on her shoulder and lower back, "Did you fall?"_

_"Yes," she mumbled, "Something spooked him, I don't know."_

_He cursed again and this time, he was the one playing doctor and for once, she let him. She's not feeling entirely too well suffering from both the fall and as well as a wounded ego. He pronounced her fine after checking her over, "Can you get up?"_

_"Mhm," she mumbled, "No hospital."_

_"That's not negotiable," he said simply, "Big bump on the head and I wanna make sure you're not concussed."_

_"Oh, for god's sake. I'm fine."_

_"I'm not taking any chances," he shook his head, assisting her as she got back on her feet._

_She failed to reply then, too busy gritting her teeth and trying to make sure the world stopped spinning before she fell over. She didn't have much success, gripping at his forearm tightly with both hands to avoid staggering while waiting for the sudden dizziness to subside. She felt sick._

_He shook his head, one arm easily slipping around her, "I'm not arguing, Diane. I drive you or I get an ambulance, either way, you're going."_

_She didn't even have the energy to glare and instead, nodded, "Fine."_

_"Next time, you wait for me," he chided quietly, "No racing."_

_"Something spooked him," she defended weakly though she allowed herself to lean against him as they began to walk very slowly together, "It was an accident."_

_"I don't care, either way, you wait," he muttered, "I'm not about to lose you to an accident, you hear?"_

_She didn't reply and instead, held on to him as they walked. That didn't mean he won this argument though, she really just didn't have the energy to argue. She was still a little dizzy and her ego was still wounded._

_When she feels better, she'll pick this up again._

_For now, she was going to have to let him take care of her._


	9. Sunday

Nine: **Sunday **__

_It's Sunday._

_And it's just the two of them. No work, no cellphones buzzing, no criminal to defend or gunshot residue to measure. It's quiet and they're not religious enough to go to church._

_They took a walk in the park, her arm looped through his and it's so simple, so quiet and definitely domestic but neither of them seemed to mind. After, they had a lazy lunch in a bistro that was quickly becoming a favorite of hers and by the time they left, lively with conversation and laughter, he couldn't wait to go back there._

_It's Sunday and it's him, her and in the afternoon, they took Justice out for a walk._

_He doesn't quite know what heaven is but he's perfectly happy to have this if this is how Sundays with her is going to be._


	10. Jolt

Ten: **Jolt **__

_She jolted awake, a gasp escaping her lips._

_Her chest was heaving, her body demanding more oxygen as if she'd been deprived the last few precious minutes. It was hard to explain, even harder to experience. Her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her lips parted in what had been a silent scream. Her lungs slightly burned, her body shivering every few seconds or so in erratic intervals. Something had been in her mind, something that invaded her dreams and turned it into a sudden nightmare she managed to only just escape._

_There was movement beside her and suddenly, her heart picked up again and she gasped, stifling it in time as the mass next to her moved and sat up, slowly._

_"Diane?" his voice was fuzzy with sleep and she felt him shift into a more comfortable position, feeling him rolling over to look at her in the darkness._

_"I'm fine," she said quietly, glad she could manipulate her voice enough to sound normal, "Go back to sleep."_

_"Bad dream?" he didn't listen to her and instead did the opposite, sitting up fully and turned on the lamp on the table on his side of the bed._

_"It happens," she said, running a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. "I'm fine, really."_

_"Two 'fines' in less than five minutes," he tilted his head sideways, giving her a look before he began to rub the sleep from his eyes. "You wanna try and go back to sleep or…?"_

_She glanced at the alarm clock on her side, "It's almost five…I've slept enough."_

_"Alright," he nodded, leaning towards her and planted a dry kiss on her cheek, "Come on."_

_"What? You don't have to—"_

_"I'm awake," he said over his shoulder before proceeding to stretch his arms upwards, "I'll start the coffee and you can decide if you wanna talk about it or not."_

_She watched him round the bed, grabbing his robe for and unfairly looking truly awake in his plain white shirt and navy blue pajama bottoms. The man was a goddamned morning person. Even his hair looked better than hers and all he ever did to it was shampoo then nothing._

_"Cold out today, take mine," she took his robe, pulling it on gratefully and only then realized how cold a morning it was. Her cooling moist skin didn't help either and using his was definitely better than using her silk one. She drowned in the soft thick fabric and his scent, mingling pleasantly with his soap and the combination of those was enough to warm her up quickly._

_"Thank you," she said quietly, throwing her legs onto the side of the bed and stood up._

_She didn't even wait for anything else before pressing up against him, huddling against his chest while she folded her arms in front of her. He didn't need to be told what to do with his arms, pulling her close in a morning hug. She wasn't sure if she was looking for more warmth or solace from whatever she had been dreaming about but she was going to take the comfort he was so readily willing to provide._

_He kissed the top of her head, through the tousled mass of blonde hair, "Good morning."_


	11. Rules

Eleven: **Rules**__

_It was an unpleasant experience._

_Watching it on the news while he cooked dinner, smirking as he eyed the salad he was sure she would pounce on before finally giving in and eating the pasta he was preparing. Women and food, much as he'd like to think otherwise, were one of the constants of the universe. His lover was no different—she tended to like things that were fattening and sometimes denied herself when she didn't have to._

_So he took it upon himself to make sure he tempted her just enough for her to give in and actually eat something that didn't not just sprout from the ground, cleaned up and tossed into a bowl with dressing on the side. He was a child of the South, he _knows_ what eating should be like.___

_His phone had been on vibrate then, but he would always be thankful he heard the telltale signs of the cluttering from where he placed it on the counter. He picked up, distracted though grinning at the thought she was calling ahead to let him know she was going to be a little late, as usual._

_It was her, but no, she wasn't just going to be late. There was a car pile-up and he didn't wait for the rest of the explanation to come—he'd seen the whole thing on the news._

_And she was there._

_The pasta was left half-cooked, the kitchen shut down and he actually forgot about Justice in her bedroom. It didn't matter because he needed to get the hell out._

_It was raining that day, but even then he sped up and tried to keep her on the line but she had to go. He was pretty sure he heard someone else speaking to her and he heard the word "paramedic" escape her before she hung up._

_He drove just a little bit faster, toeing the speed limits and hoped to god it wasn't as bad as it looked in his head._

_It was bad. There was indeed a car pileup and he didn't even want to think about what could be at the heart of the collision. There were people walking around, some of them assisted and the rows of cars that were involved were enough to make him stop short in his tracks, his heart hammering against his chest and he fought even harder to get through the barriers, ignoring people who were trying to get him to stay back._

_By the time he found her, she was speaking to someone on the side of the road, a blanket draped over her lithe form and it was only then he realized he had been holding his breath._

_She smiled at him wanly when he came, pulling an officer aside and pointed him out as he made his way through the mass of people that were there—police, medics, firemen, rescuers and a few civilians. They spoke for a bit more before she signed something for him and turned back to face him again, tilting her head a little as she waited by the small tent that had been set up._

_The first thing he noticed, as silly as it might seem, was that her hair was wet._

_"I'm fine," were the first words that came from her lips and he must've given her a look before she chuckled, "You look like death warmed over." She raised her left wrist, wrapped in an ace bandage, "Light sprain, I'm sorry I worried you but you didn't give me much chance to—"_

_He didn't let her finish yet again, pulling her into a firm but light hug, "Jesus, Diane."_

_"I'm fine," she said again and it was more likely she was the one doing most of the comforting between them. She smiled, running her fingers soothingly through his hair and rested her hand on the nape of his neck, "I'm okay."_

_"I was watching it on the news," he mumbled against her neck, "I didn't even think you would…"_

_They pulled apart and she shook her head, "I hit the break just in time…luckily there was a considerable amount of space between me and the SUV behind me…we managed to stop just in time."_

_He felt his insides churn at the mention of the SUV because he knew for a fact that whatever kind it might have been, it could just easily crush her sleek black Cadillac in a collision. He returned his attention to her when he felt her hand on his cheek, "Hey?"_

_"Yeah," he shook his head, kissing her quickly, "I'm here."_

_"Yes, you are," she smiled, "Thank you. Now, take me home. I'm soaked and I'm afraid this is a bit too much excitement for one night."_

_"Okay," he nodded, pulling her close and they began to walk together. It wasn't raining anymore, just a slight drizzle and the worst he could deduce might come from this is a sprained ankle and a cold. "You didn't hit your head, did you?"_

_"No," she shook her head, "Just my wrist and the medic said it should be fine in a couple of days. My airbag didn't treat me too badly. I got lucky."_

_"You did," he nodded and they walked once more, close together with his arm around her shoulders, holding her to him._

_They reached his F150, parked haphazardly in the shoulder and he noticed then he'd left his lights on and couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he deposited her on the passenger seat, tucking in the blanket she was using inside before pausing, looking at her as she sat there, expression curious._

_"You know me," he began quietly, "I don't do rules and I let you do pretty much whatever you want because I trust you and I know you're a grown woman."_

_She nodded, "Yes. And?"_

_"I'm going to give you _one_ rule right now and it's _not_ negotiable."___

_He saw the guarded expression come over her features, "I'm listening."_

_"You do _not_ get to do that to me ever again, do you hear me?" he leaned in close, their faces inches apart as he leaned into the car, his hand on her leg and the other supporting him while it rested against the doorframe. "You don't scare me like that ever again because I don't think I can take it."___

_Diane smiled at him, ignoring the tightening of his grip on her thigh, her hand curling around his collar and pulled him in for a kiss, "Sounds reasonable enough. I can work with that."_

_"Good," he nodded, taking a deep breath before pulling back. He pulled the seatbelt in place for her and ignored the eye roll it elicited, "Good."_

_She winked at him before he closed the door, watching him as he rounded the vehicle and took his spot behind the wheel. Briefly, he touched her rain-soaked hair, his fingers slipping through the tangled locks, "I'm here."_

_He nodded, "I know."_

_"So, what are you waiting for, cowboy?" she gave him an impish smile, "Take me home."_

_He nodded, managing a small smile and feeling as if a tight band around his heart and been broken off and he could feel it beating properly once again. He did as he was told and headed off for the drive home, this time in a more compliant speed._


	12. Fever

Twelve: **Fever **

_"Where do you think you're going, mister?"_

_"Down…?"_

_"No, you're not."_

_"I'm not?"_

_"Not with a fever you don't."_

_"I feel fine."_

_"I swear, Kurt, if you fall, hit your head and pass out on the stairs or anywhere in this house, I will not help you."_

_"Come on, Diane—"_

_"I mean it. I am_

not_ lugging your body around because you decided to be stubborn and walk about. You are heavy and I won't even attempt to pick you up. Do you hear me?"_

_"Fine, fine..."_

_"Good. If you wanted to be carried around, you should have dated Hulk. Or a man."_

_"Oh, god, Diane. I'm going, I'm going."_

_"Good."_


	13. Unease

Thirteen: **Unease**__

_She told him about a man named Jack._

_He's Australian and he's a process server who knows how to handle errant people who didn't take kindly to being sued or divorced. He's a decent man, it seems, and he made an impression on her._

_Bought her a poster from the Borgman exhibit even._

_At the moment he's at his place, just outside the city and he's testing seven different SIG Sauer handguns to see just which of them fired the bullets that killed the shop owner. There are striations on the casing, groves along the side that leave distinct impressions on each case every time a shot is fired._

_It's simple enough and he could finish it by today, but somehow, despite his work ethic and his usual professionalism, he couldn't help but be distracted._

_She told him Jack was coming to their office today, in a more professional capacity only this time he's not serving them, more 'consulting' about something. He wasn't even going to think about what a process server could consult on with a partner of a law firm if it's not about being sued which, she dutifully informed him, it wasn't. He's not thinking about that, no._

_Inspecting an enlarged a photo of the bullet and marking along where the striations could be easily and distinctly compared, he let his red felt tip pen ride along the glossy surface of the photo._

_He ignored the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, gnawing at him as he decided that he'd never quite felt so uneasy about something in such a long time._

_It was an unpleasant feeling._

_But he trusted her, trusted that it was work and nothing more. She had told the man herself she wasn't interested, after all, and she wasn't. She was with someone. There was no reason to ponder on the matter. Jack was business, nothing more._

_Then again, that's how they met too—business._

_But it's different, right?_

_He decided to stick with his work and ignore what the process server named Jack could have to do with being in his lover's office._

_It's different, he told himself, and went to test the third SIG Sauer on his list._


	14. Duvet

Fourteen: **Duvet**__

_There were a lot of things to learn about her._

_But he never quite imagined that one of them would be her having a fear of loud thunderstorms._

_Not the average kind, but rather the loud ones, the ones that made the windows literally rattle and the floors vibrate under their feet ominously. Lightning flashed now and again, the really bright ones that reminded him far too much of crime scenes being documented with heavy duty cameras with obnoxiously strong flashbulbs. Chicago was being pelted down by thick blankets of rain and rattled the city as if it was really trying to do some real damage._

_It's not going to damage her, but he can see it bothers her enough to curl up next to him, her body wrapped in the heavy duvet she had bought for his bed, her hair fanned over his chest and shoulders and a pillow clutched to her between them. Talking had been out of the question, as the loud crashes over their heads tended to demand they raise their voice to be heard over the din. It wasn't worth it._

_He doesn't speak, instead, holds her closer and hopes she can find some way to sleep._

_She doesn't of course, if the pattern of her breathing was anything to go by. Instead, she shivered against him briefly and curled up even tighter, body shifting underneath the duvet before pulling it tighter around her. He wordlessly assisted by pulling on the heavy fabric himself, patting it down gently around her and she settled against him once more._

_He didn't mean to be a cad but somehow he couldn't help but be content to have learned something new about her when he thought he'd had her figured out already._

_That and he couldn't help but feel happy to have some form of confirmation she trusted him enough to show she wasn't superwoman all the time. He's always known she had flaws, she'd just yet to show them. This was her, with her guard down, allowing him the rarest of glimpses._

_He found that he liked it, seeing a side of her that needed someone like him._


	15. Break

Fifteen: **Break**__

_"So, what are are your plans for tonight?"_

_"Dinner and a movie."_

_"Alone?"_

_"It depends…"_

_He paused, watching her closely before deciding to brave it, "Is there something we need to talk about?"_

_She stopped picking at her salad and looked at him, nodding, "Yes."_

_He glanced at his own plate, appetite gone and it was just as well because he was almost done anyway. He put his fork aside and reached for his glass and took a drink before nodding at her. He let out what wasn't a sigh and what was really more of a preparatory breath of someone who was steeling himself for a blow._

_"I think you should…" she paused when he looked up at her then kept going when he didn't say anything, "Come over tonight."_

_The expression on his face changed and she found herself curious because she saw it for what it was, "You look…surprised."_

_"Because I am," he answered honestly, "I was expecting something else."_

_"Like what?"_

_"To be honest, I thought you were about to break things off with me."_

_"Why would you think that?"_

_"I haven't seen you in five days and you've been avoiding me," he pointed out and there was no hint of accusation in his voice, just plain old facts being stated, "You wouldn't even let me come over."_

_She tried not to fidget in his much too focused gaze on her, "I explained it to you. I was up to my neck with work."_

_"You've been up to your neck with work before," he said and his tone never changed, "You never stopped me from coming over."_

_"This time was different, I was busy enough I was afraid I was going to end up…taking things out on you," she decided to be as honest with him, "I'm prone to doing that. I didn't want to do that to you."_

_He stared at her, observing her silently then nodded, slowly, "So…you're really not breaking up with me?"_

_"Good god, no."_

_"It's a known pattern, you know," he shrugged, "Girl gets preoccupied, girl gets busy. Girl gets busy, girl tells boy to stay out, he can't come over. Boy doesn't hear from girl…it's not hard to see why I came to that particular conclusion, you see?"_

_"You know what they say about assuming," she said, tilting her head sideways, "But fine, as long as you add this to your list: girl tells boy in simple declarative sentences boy can come over, girl's not busy anymore and girl would very much like to have boy spend the night."_

_He gave her a look, "Boy getting mixed signals."_

_"Girl saying she's not breaking up with him," then she rolled her eyes, "Jesus Christ, are we in high school?"_

_"If we are then we're in big trouble," he smiled discreetly behind his glass as he took another drink, "So…tonight?"_

_"I'm thinking Italian and something in black & white," she smiled easily, "How does _Manhattan Melodrama_ sound to you?"___

_He thought about it, nodding, "I think we're going to be with good company."_

_"Loy, Powell _and_ Gable," she grinned, "Doesn't get any better than that."___

_"Sounds good."_

_"This clear enough for you?"_

_"Boy definitely coming over tonight."_

_"And staying."_

_"Boy's very happy."_

_"Oh, please, stop."_


	16. Okay

Sixteen: **Okay **

_The atmosphere was constricted and made it hard to breathe, hard to move._

_It has nothing to do with her and she's merely around to offer support, but she feels the weight of grief seep into her bones anyway, the grip cold and tight. She's never been comfortable with death, never comfortable with grief, but then how many people were? She's had enough loss in her life to shy away from such things because of the mere fact that it _

hurt.

_No one likes to be in pain, at least, not a normal person._

_She isn't the one suffering a loss but she feels it anyway, if only because it's him who is deeply affected by it. He hasn't opened up, hadn't spoken of anything related to what happened, but she knows him. She can see the grief and it's heavy, so heavy. She aches for him, for the people who were mourning the loss of a great man, a man who had died with honor._

_He had been Kurt's friend, someone who might as well have been his brother and he had been killed in the line of duty one Wednesday morning. They spoke three nights prior to his death and she knew both men had agreed to meet during the weekend for dinner so she could meet him and his wife. _

_She had been looking forward to it, having heard stories from their early years together when his friend was still a punk beat cop and Kurt was starting out in his forensic studies. They'd taught each other about guns and life, ever contrasting the life of a cop and a guy stuck comparing the bullets they scattered along the way._

_It had been almost surreal the day he'd come into her office to tell her what happened. She'd been in a meeting and had been annoyed when her assistant interrupted her with a call from him. She waved her off, telling her she would get back to him later. She must've taken longer than she had intended because by the time she was exiting the conference room, he was walking down the hall, heading for her office._

_She breezed in, apology already spilling from her lips, only to stop dead in her tracks as she took in the darkness that was all too apparent on his somber face._

_Nothing could quite explain the fear she felt. It was instinctual and she found herself closing her doors behind her. She would have closed the blinds but she'd felt the need to be near him immediately._

_When he finally told her, she hadn't hesitated to wrap her arms around him, uncaring that she was in her office made of glass, uncaring that her curious employees could witness what they were doing. She felt his grief, his pain and it was heavy and thick and she knew it was great._

_It had been great enough for him to break their unspoken rules about coming to her office, about getting her to break her professionalism and strict rules about her image in the firm. She understood then and everything within her damned everything else and she concentrated on being there for him._

_Will had seen, right from across his office and she managed a quick explanation when she decided to head out early, telling him what happened and why it was important. He hadn't objected and instead, encouraged her into being with Kurt, to be there for him. She was grateful for that._

_Even more grateful when she came back to the office the next day only to find out the firm had turned down the family of the one who was responsible for the kill. They needed a good lawyer, needed someone to keep their son out of jail. The doors of Lockhart & Gardner turned them away and Diane could not help the burst of affection she felt for her partner then._

_Now was the day of the funeral and a part of her doubted her ability to be there for him, to be what he needed. She didn't know if she was enough, but she was trying._

_Checking the mirror even though she already knew she was perfectly ready to go, she decided she'd chosen well and was glad she had finished first. She had gotten up especially earlier than usual, getting the coffee ready and started preparing. She had opted for a black dress to match with her black nylons and shoes. It was appropriate for the funeral and understated enough not to attract unnecessary attention._

_By the time she had finished slipping on a pair of pearl earrings, he had woken up and she barely managed a shaky smile before pushing him into her bathroom to get ready. He gave her a dry but gentle kiss on the cheek before slipping in, closing the door behind him and left her to her thoughts._

_They had time and she had the patience to be the one waiting this time and when he came out, already dressed in a black suit with a dark navy blue tie hanging around his collar, she stood and met him by the mirror. She didn't need him to ask her to do his tie, quietly reaching for the soft material._

_Her fingers moved deftly, manipulating the tie into the proper loops and went about her work quietly, keeping her eyes on her work if only because she was a little nervous about looking at him. She didn't need to see the sadness and grief she knew would be there and selfish as it was, she wanted a brief solace before being confronted by his open emotions, knowing it would affect her a lot deeper than anyone would guess._

_She cared for him a lot more than she thought, her feelings running deeper than she had realized before all this had happened. He affected her tremendously and it made her heart hammer against her chest._

_"Whatever happens today…" his voice was hoarse and dry and he did not sound like himself. She wouldn't tell him, but it scared her because she loved his voice, loved his warmth. In his grief, he was monotonous, different._

_She pulled the final loop on his tie, pushing it all the way up and began to adjust his collar about his neck. She couldn't think of what else to say except, "I'm here."_

_He nodded and didn't give much warning before letting his fingers push her chin upward, giving her no choice but to look at him, "Whatever happens today…thank you."_

_"You don't have to thank me," she shook her head, dislodging his fingers and began to smooth down his suit jacket, her eyes and hands running the span of his shoulders and slid gracefully down his chest. His tie was perfectly knotted and his collar in place. They were ready to leave._

_"I do," he said quietly, "You've been incredible to me…and you didn't even know him."_

_"I knew him," she said, looking at him and finally allowed their eyes to meet. The grief in his almost made her falter but she soldiered on, "Through your stories. He was a good man, a good husband and a great father. He was your friend. Someone who was loved and loved greatly in return…I may not have met him, but I knew him and I'm so sorry for your loss."_

_He stared at her, placing a hand on her cheek with a small smile on his face, "He couldn't wait to meet you, you know…smacked me upside the head for taking so long introducing you two. He thought you were funny."_

_"Really?" she smiled, "Should I worry?"_

_"No," he smiled just a little bit wider, "He said you were good for me."_

_"I hope he knows you're good for me too."_

_"He wouldn't have believed it if I told him," he replied, "He'd have laughed his ass off."_

_She chuckled, placing her hand over his from where it still rested against her face, "I'm sure if he would have, it was just to pull your leg."_

_The amusement dimmed a little and the grief came back but he didn't stop smiling or take his hand away, "Yeah…he'd have done whatever he could, just to mess with me."_

_"And you him," she smiled a little, "It's okay to miss him."_

_"I do," he nodded, his eyes dropping and took a deep, shuddering breath that made her own heart ache, "A hell of a man."_

_She nodded, "So are you."_

_"You're going to be with me?"_

_"Yes," she answered, "For as long as you need me."_

_"Good," he nodded, breathing in deeply before kissing her. It was gentle and slow with a simple meeting of their lips and nothing more. It was a kiss of comfort and affection, a way of connecting without letting passions take over on such a solemn day. He breathed her in before pulling back, leaning forward until he could rest his cheek against her temple, "I'm…I'm going to need you today."_

_"And I'm here," she replied in a slight whisper, "Always."_

_She felt him breathe in once more and the way it sounded, the way it felt, it felt more like a sigh._

_It sounded like a sigh of someone who suddenly felt the burdens lift from their shoulders, as if somehow their troubles were finally gone, allowing them to breathe some much needed oxygen after being deprived so long. It was of relief that had that heady feeling of something akin to freedom, of breaking free. He wasn't free from his sadness, of his mourning and his grief, but he felt lifted enough to know he had someone who was truly there for him._

_She breathed right along with him, realizing that somehow, he was going to be coming out of this. It would take time, but he was going to and she was going to be there with him, for however long he wanted her presence around him._

_Because all that mattered was he was going to be okay._


	17. Maelstrom

Seventeen: **Maelstrom**

_A part of them knows this might not last, as is the fragile nature of relationships._

_But that doesn't mean they're going to give up. They will hold on, they will fight, then will talk and listen. You don't give up on people you care about and yes, they care about each other._

_Even though there are days when they fight badly enough they stop speaking for a while, pushing against the mounting maelstrom of emotions, pushing against each other without actually being with each other. Eventually, they will come back, eventually they will work things out._

_A part of them knows this might not last, that somehow, there will come a time that maybe they might _not_ come back, might not work things out and stop speaking altogether._

_It's a possibility but it's _not_ an inevitable so they work at it._

_A part of them knows this might not last, that somehow they're just setting each other up and as well as themselves for heartbreak._

_That's what relationships are and until they're not able to, they're going to hold on because they care about each other—deeply._

_And that is all the reason they need._


	18. Ingenue

Eighteen: **Ingénue**

_He asked permission._

_She said he didn't have to. It's his place, his decision. She had no say in the matter._

_He pointed out she hadn't exactly said yes._

_She pointed out she pointed out that she didn't have a say in the matter._

_A stalemate of sorts. No, actually, screw that—he was facing a Catch-22._

_It was part of the program he had been asked to join. Training forensic students, helping them get better at their specialties. He was getting a pool, but considering the constraints of the travel it would take to have him as a trainer and using his lab facilities, instead of a group, he decided scheduling the meetings were going to be better both for him and the students under his wing._

_One on one sessions in varying schedules through the week to make sure he could give each one fair time and attention and all in all, it was a good program and it didn't hamper his work schedule. He managed to work it out with the University just the same and the students were open to the option._

_Plus, he liked the idea of teaching. It was different and also a way of scoping out talent. He's had apprentices before and at the moment, he was considering getting another one. His last one was already heading up the ballistics team in a lab in Florida._

_He knew for a fact a lot of students would be interested in working with him considering his facility was large enough to accommodate an apprentice or two, giving them enough ground to work on as well as options to practice and learn in between working._

_Not to mention it was up to date, up to code—thanks to a certain blonde and an infamous case with the FBI—and was equipped with the latest equipment in forensic ballistics._

_It all seemed to be falling in order easily. That is, until he met his students. Miranda was sharp, young and outspoken, not a shy bone in her body with a brain to match and boy, could she shoot. She came highly recommended, coming from a long line of marksmen and he'd seen her scores himself and knew she was going to be an excellent student._

_There was nothing wrong until he spoke with one of his friends from the university. Said friend managed to innocently point out she was attractive. He hadn't noticed—really, he hadn't. She was young enough to be his daughter, for god's sake. But he saw the problem then._

_So what better way to avoid a problem than to face it head on? He bit the bullet, so to speak, and broached the subject with his lover and frequent—very frequent—houseguest. It's not as if she was a stranger to playing mentor and she wasn't insecure or easily intimidated, that helps a hell of a lot too. But he wasn't going to spring something on her and have something potentially blow up in his face._

_He asked permission, she said she didn't have a say in the matter, but she hadn't said yes either._

_Now, what the hell was he going to do? He wanted to mentor the girl—she was a hell of a shot and her record was incredibly promising. So, he decided to screw it—again—and admitted her into the program. Work was work, his personal life was another matter._

_Of course, he didn't count her unpredictability._

_He wasn't even going to consider her doing it on purpose because he's got enough faith in her to know she's above spying. And yes, it was kind of amusing to see her walking through the door, looking quite gorgeous in her coat, high heels and commanding him to take away her phone before she hired a hitman to take down every person on her list for the day. She'd come in a cab and he knew that meant she probably had had something to drink prior to coming to his place as well and that only added to his amusement._

_It was a great way to have her meet Miranda. He liked her, she was very talented and eager to learn, feisty enough not to say yes to every single thing he said and had an inquisitive mind._

_But what took the cake, of course, was when it was revealed the girl was also a Republican. He was pretty sure he heard her mutter "I've been surrounded" under her breath as she took off her coat. He smothered his laugh and instead led her into a room and decided lessons were done for the night._

_Diane Lockhart was an attractive woman, very beautiful, very smart and very much able to handle herself. His protégé Miranda, as it turned out, could handle herself as well because in no time at all, he was sharing a beer with the two women, watching them verbally spar on current events and what was going to topple Obama. Both women spared no ammunition and it was like watching a tennis match of pros. _

_To his lover, it was easy and it was almost as if watching a cat play with its prey and Miranda was coping marvelously under expert repartee. He expected Diane going in for a kill, but she never did, amusing the girl and her feistiness that wouldn't let her back down. He could even see they were having fun._

_It was great for him, he's always loved sparring with Diane, but to just _

watch_? It was an entirely different experience. Banter had been their foreplay, right from the beginning, but this was quite excellent too._

_He wouldn't even deny he was turned on._

_The fact that she was flawless even while she already had some alcohol in her was an added turn on as well. God, did he get lucky. He was a lucky, lucky bastard._

_By the time Miranda was gone, Diane was pleasantly tipsy enough. She liked Miranda, he could tell and he was glad. He wouldn't have really known what to do if she decided she couldn't stand his student because Miranda was scheduled to come back and Diane was taking to coming over more often now, despite the matters going on with Will and the firm._

_"Interesting girl," she smiled, "That was her? The permission?"_

_"Mhm," he nodded, watching as she finished up her beer gracefully._

_"Your protégé?" she smirked, "The ingénue?"_

_"I wouldn't go that far," he snorted, "She knows what she's doing."_

_"She's coming back in the morning?"_

_"Yep," he nodded._

_She tilted her head sideways, blinked slowly and looked at him threw her lashes, "Does that mean I won't get to stay until the morning comes?"_

_He raised his eyebrows, "Now, why would you think of something stupid like that?"_

_She laughed, "I wouldn't want to scar your ingénue…"_

_"She's old enough," he said, standing up and pulling her up along with him. The luxurious silk of her blouse allowed his hands to move easily over her arms and waist and he didn't stop until he had a firm hold on her, "You're not going anywhere."_

_"I'd hoped you would say that because," she picked up his unfinished bottle, "I never did tell you…beer makes me incredibly—"_

_He didn't let her finish as he captured her lips with his, eliciting a laugh from her which he smothered playfully with more kisses. Her arms wound around his neck, the bottle forgotten as she occupied herself with more interesting things._

_By the time Miranda arrived the next morning, he had already driven her home. They went on with their lessons even after his student managed to comment how much she enjoyed the conversation with Diane and wondered aloud if they were going to meet again soon. He didn't answer and instead, taught her the finer details of blowback in various forms. There was no scarring to be done that day, thankfully._

_Later, he would realize that somehow Diane must have left her blouse behind somewhere under the table they were using the night before and Miranda happened to find it._

_So much for not scarring anyone._


	19. Lunch

Nineteen: **Lunch**

_Surprises were good and fun._

_Most of the time._

_Walking into her office with a nod towards her assistant, he didn't know he was about to find out that not _all_ surprises were good and fun. At least, not today—not good and fun for whom? He wasn't entirely sure._

_Because standing in the middle of her office was a tall man, laughing with her and dressed in an all-black suit. He stopped at the threshold, wondering how to approach such a situation. Her assistant hadn't interrupted her when he came in, so he only took that to mean this meeting wasn't particularly important or exclusive. And surely, the way she was laughing with the man, obviously relaxed as she leaned against the back of one of the chairs in front of her desk._

_It was the stranger who noticed him first, hands in his pocket as he glanced at the doorway, "Oh, hello…?"_

_The accent was a dead giveaway. Australian and he wasn't an idiot or senile—this was good ole good guy Jack. She'd told him about the process server, the one she'd met going to that exhibit he missed. They were supposed to check that one out together. He'd been called away suddenly and then she met Jack, the process server with a heart of gold and an excellent right hook dodger._

_She turned and saw him, straightening up with a smile when she saw him, "Hi! What are you doing here?"_

_"I was…" what was he doing there again? And this was Jack? This was the guy? Really? "In the neighborhood—my meeting at the university finished early. I thought maybe you'd wanna grab lunch together?"_

_"Oh, really?" she seemed surprised, which was the point. He just hadn't counted there being an audience to this invitation, "That sounds lovely. Jack and I were just finishing up…right?"_

_The tall man next to her nodded, "Yeah, yeah, we are. Finishing up and all."_

_"Okay then," she flashed him a smile and rounded her desk, and began swiping her phone and her purse and shifting papers around, slipping one pile to another and grabbing this folder and that. "We'll go over the strategy tomorrow and we'll prep you."_

_"Sounds good," Jack nodded, glancing at Kurt who was still waiting by the doorway. He shifted once from one foot to another before turning to the other man, his hand out, "Jack Copeland."_

_"Kurt McVeigh," he replied, extending his own hand._

_"Thank you for making up for my lack of manners," Diane called with a laugh, "I'm sorry about that."_

_"No, it's fine," Jack said as he and Kurt looked at each other, "So…you're…with Diane?"_

_"I am," Kurt nodded, "And you're…?"_

_"The jerk who served her papers in the middle of an art gallery," the other man grinned, "I'm a process server."_

_"Ah, nice introduction, coming from a man who was so distinctive about Americans and their predictable ways in conversation," Diane chuckled as she made her way towards the two men._

_"Well, I'm not looking to date Kurt here so I've no reason to evaluate his income or screen him," Jack replied charmingly then turned back to the other man, "Not that there's anything wrong with you. It's not you, it's me. I'm exclusive."_

_Diane laughed, patting Jack on the arm before turning to Kurt, "That bistro?"_

_"Yep," he smirked, "I already called in ahead."_

_"Called ahead? My, someone's sure of himself," she smirked, kissing him lightly on the cheek, "Hello."_

_"And that's my cue," Jack said with a grin, facing Kurt again, "It was nice to meet you Kurt."_

_"You too," they shook hands lightly, in a less formal manner this time._

_"And Diane?" Jack smiled, "Always lovely."_

_"I'll see you tomorrow, Jack."_

_The Australian left with a wave of his hand, leaving the couple by the doors of her office. Kurt stared after the man while Diane simply smiled next to him._

_"So, that was Jack."_

_"That was Jack."_

_"Seems like a nice guy."_

_"He is."_

_"The guy who asked you out," Kurt slipped an arm around her waist._

_"Yes," she nodded and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, "After he threw someone up against a wall. It was very manly."_

_"Right," Kurt nodded, "So…lunch?"_

_She smiled, "Lunch."_

_They walked together, heading towards the elevators._

_"Just for the record," Kurt said as they walked. "I'm not bothered at all."_

_"I didn't say you were," the smile on her face, playful as it was told him her thoughts were another matter though. "And you don't have to be."_

_"He really seems like a good guy. Funny too."_

_"Yes," she nodded, "You're funny too."_

_"And I can throw a guy up a wall too."_

_She let out a small laugh, "I don't doubt that."_

_"And you're with me."_

_"Yep," she smiled, glancing at him with a merry light in her eyes, "So what does that tell you?"_

_"Jack's a nice guy," he grinned stupidly at her._

_Diane's laughter echoed all the way down the hallways of Lockhart/Gardner._


	20. Heavy

Twenty: **Heavy**

_Her lips taste like bourbon on nights when she's been with Will Gardner after hours._

_She wouldn't be quite drunk, but rather tipsy enough to smile easily at him and give him languid kisses while her fingers drift over the buttons of his shirt._

_On nights like that, she laughed easier, kissed harder and eventually asserted her power over him well into the night. It makes her even more passionate and less likely to let him be the dominant one, fighting him harder than usual until he's the one who inevitably relents._

_There was that memorable time she came home with a scarf looped lazily around her neck and a song drifting softly from her red, red lips. She ended up on top, he ended up tied up. He didn't complain. What sane man would?_

_On nights like that her lips taste of bourbon, heavy enough for him to taste them in her kisses._

_And up until now, he could not find anything quite as sensual as that combination—_

_The scent of her invading his senses, the taste of bourbon and her body heavy against his._


	21. Approved

Twenty-one: **Approved**

_Diane Lockhart was not happy._

_In fact, she was quite infuriated._

_And it did not help at all when she knew it was her own fault she was angry in the first place. That, and there was a certain someone lingering in the background with a full license to tell her 'I told you so'. That added to her ire too because, hell, who liked being told that?_

_She frowned at the glass windows of her office, scowling at the frost covered glass as well as the pile of white fluffs collecting at the edges as well as the rest of the city. God, did this have to happen today? Chicago has always been hers, but oh, how she hated the weather sometimes. She hated it beyond belief right now._

_"They say it might go up to four feet, give or take."_

_Diane suppressed a groan and turned around to face Will Gardner, standing in front of her desk with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had shed his jacket and was now casually walking around in a light pink button down with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms and his tie long ago discarded._

_"Tell me you're kidding," she said stiffly, her eyes widening a little._

_"Sorry, nope," he shook his head, "The city's practically shut down and they're going to try and clear the streets but it's not advisable to get out there now. We're stuck here."_

_"Oh, good god," she groaned then, falling gracelessly into her chair and scowled at Will, "You don't look miserable for someone who's about to be stuck in his office for the night."_

_He shrugged, "We've got a well-stocked pantry, some emergency blankets and technology to amuse ourselves with…except for my bed, which I can substitute with my very comfy couch, I would do pretty much the same thing at my place."_

_"No one waiting?" she raised an eyebrow at him._

_"Nah, although I'm guessing the same can't be said for you?" he gave her a knowing grin._

_There was no use in lying, "How'd you know?"_

_"Extrapolation," he shrugged, "You've been leaving the office on time, you were planning on leaving early before you got held up over the phone and…you're miserable."_

_"I could just be missing my bed."_

_"Or the person you've been sharing it with."_

_She gave him a look, "Hardly."_

_He gave her an amused grin that clearly told her he didn't believe her for one second, "Come on, you look like you were trying to melt the frost off your windows with your super badass glare," he smirked, "You're not easily ticked off like this—we've experienced this before so…I had to look for another reason."_

_"And you went right to me seeing someone?" she shook her head slightly at him, "You know what they say about assuming, Will."_

_"And you know what they say about lying," he grinned, "I'm right, aren't I?"_

_"Have you been listening to idle gossip again?" Diane gave him a look, "Because you're not that good, Sherlock."_

_"Fine," he rolled his eyes, "I heard you talking to your assistant about reservations."_

_"Ah, the truth comes out," she nodded then glanced out into the rapidly darkening world outside, making the snow threatening to bury them seem even whiter, "He warned me about the possibility of a snowstorm…"_

_"Kurt?"_

_"Yes, we had reservations but he cancelled them…an evening at home seemed the better choice," she frowned even more, "Not that it matters now."_

_"He's back at your place?"_

_"Mhm," she nodded, "I should call him."_

_"Don't bother."_

_Will turned around and almost laughed at the sight of the man dressed in a thick parka, dark jeans and boots. He almost looked like something out of a slasher movie with his outfit, paired with what looked like black gloves. All he was missing was a large knife or a scythe._

_"Kurt!" Diane called in surprise, bolting upright in her seat at the sight of her lover, "What are you doing here?"_

_He pulled back the hood of his parka, revealing pink cheeks, a moist brow and a knowing look, "I had a feeling you were going to be 'a little late' again so I went ahead with making dinner. Then I heard about the snow storm warnings and you didn't call so I thought something was up."_

_"I know you warned me about it, but I really thought—"_

_He shook his head, grinning at her, "It's okay. At least I made it—I gotta admit I had a feeling this was going to happen anyway."_

_Diane turned to Will who was sporting a grin of his own, "Am I _that_ predictable now?"_

_"A little bit," he teased, "You're slipping."_

_She rolled her eyes and finally stood up, striding towards her lover and immediately began helping him out of his coat, "You're wet! Did you trudge around in the snow? In this weather?"_

_"Had to park outside," he muttered, "I was lucky there was even a spot close enough without risking frostbite in the walk."_

_"You're insane," she declared, hurriedly unbuttoning his coat and pulled it off of him. She reached for the backpack he had with him, "What is this?"_

_"Dinner," he smirked, "And a few other things. They weren't kidding about the snow." Then unexpectedly he turned towards Will, "There's enough for three, if you're interested."_

_Will grinned, "Thanks and normally, I wouldn't intrude on Diane's dates, but I don't think I can say no this time. My dinner was going to be some fruits and Captain Crunch." He looked at his business partner, "That is if Diane doesn't mind…?"_

_"Of course not," she huffed though she was clearly distracted as she checked her lover, pulling at his coat and tossing his leather gloves aside. "God, what were you thinking?"_

_Considering the man had so generously offered to feed him, Will suppressed the strong sudden urge to laugh as he observed the man childishly roll his eyes at the scolding. He looked at the other man, making a motion of zipping his mouth with a wicked grin._

_"Here," Kurt handed him the bag, "Food's in there but there are things in the bottom for Diane, but you won't have a problem finding it."_

_"Such a boy scout," Diane muttered then proceeded to grab him by the neck of his coat, "Come on, we'll get you dry before you catch your death of cold."_

_"Don't be so dramatic," Kurt said though his tone was obviously teasing, "I did bundle up, you know. My clothes are dry in here. It's not my first time in the snow."_

_"Yes, well, either way, you're not soaking my carpet," she muttered, "Now come on, get out of that coat and get warm! You're insane for doing this."_

_"Yeah, but you're happy I did it anyway."_

_Diane rolled her eyes, "Yes, you are a sweet, sweet man. Insane, but sweet."_

_"Gee, I feel so cherished."_

_"Oh, just get in there."_

_Will grinned, watching the two as the man allowed his partner to lead him off in her private washroom, all the while chastising him for his trek even though it was obvious to both men she was glad to have him there. He opened the bag, grinning happily as he found a few containers with food that did look good enough to eat. He hadn't even realized he was that hungry but he definitely knew now._

_He sat himself down on the couch, putting the containers on the coffee table and decided he really liked Diane's current boyfriend. There was pasta, still warm, and some garlic bread, all obviously homemade. Will couldn't help but grin even wider at that. He knew the man could cook, Diane had said so herself and he knew that was high praise coming from her._

_Will sat back, waiting for the couple to come back out and decided he definitely approved of Kurt McVeigh._


	22. Innocent

Twenty-two: **Innocent**

_"Hey, so dinner tonight?"_

_She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing at her watch before closing her eyes slowly, "I don't think I can make it, I'm sorry I—"_

_"Nah, it's okay," he said, "I'll stay in with the dogs, read a book or something. Are you eating out or…?"_

_"I'll eat something here," she looked around her office, slapping herself mentally over and over again, "Don't stay up too late, okay? I'll see you in the morning…or tomorrow night."_

_"Sounds good," he replied, "Don't stay there too late. You work too hard."_

_"I know, I know," she muttered, glaring at the empty chair across from her though she kept her voice casual, "I'll see you...I'm sorry."_

_"Don't worry about it," he chuckled, "Bye, Diane."_

_"Goodbye, Kurt."_

_She hung up, glaring at the phone and ignoring the alarm bells going off in her head. Inwardly she told herself she wasn't doing anything wrong. She had told him she was meeting up with a business associate and that was true. It was a drink, maybe dinner too, but nothing more. _

_There was nothing wrong with that at all._

_Sure the said business associate just happened to be Jack Copeland, but after that failed date, they'd had nothing to do with each other. She never saw him again and he stopped calling—that had been four months ago. Since then, she hadn't heard a thing regarding the Australian. Bumping onto each other that morning had been purely accidental and she couldn't just brush the man off._

_They said hello, chatted a bit then he just happened to invite her for a 'quick drink' after work, nothing serious, just two people catching up. The dinner wasn't even mentioned, just a possibility and she wasn't even sure she was interested in anything more than the drink. She just didn't want to make him wait up and disappoint him._

_She hadn't lied, not exactly._

_It was innocent and she didn't plan on seeing him again after. Just catching up because she genuinely did enjoy his company and he was a good man. It would be nice to know what he'd been up to lately and such._

_She wasn't doing anything wrong._

_But then again, that didn't explain why the 'I'm sorry' she so genuinely imparted on Kurt felt heavier than a missed dinner should merit. Or why she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to bleed when Jack's name lit up the screen of her cellphone._

_She wasn't doing anything wrong._

_And yet, nothing in her brilliant mind could explain why she suddenly felt like the most despicable being on the planet. She glared at the phone before pushing off her desk and walked out of her office, deciding it was time to check on how the people from Legal Aid were settling in._

_Leaving her phone behind with the name 'Jack Copeland' flashing on her screen once more._


	23. Notes

Twenty-three: **Notes**

_Had to come in to work early and it's your turn to take out the dogs.__  
__Pick me up at 8? Call me. —D_

* * *

_Hey—  
__Went to the farm. Made you coffee._  
_Lunch later?_  
_-Kurt_

* * *

_Eli called. I'm tempted to take you up on that offer…can you promise you won't make a mess? __  
__Blood stains are hard to remove, from what I hear. —D_

* * *

_Missed you last night. Missed you again this morning.__  
__Say you'll be coming home for dinner? I'm not above bribing._  
_-Kurt_


	24. Friends

Twenty-four: **Friends**

_Kurt McVeigh knows how to pick his friends._

_They were people he could count on and people whom he would do pretty much anything for. Loyalty was key and the friendships were true. Nothing sappy, nothing overdone or covert—just a man who knew how to surround himself with good people and he liked it that way._

_He's never broken a friendship over petty issues, never the type to pull some juvenile crap and let his own stupidity get in the way of things. He used his head, most of the time and he kept pretty good company around himself, people he actually liked hanging out with and people he could relate too._

_So when he and his friend find themselves enjoying a quiet afternoon at Horsetail Lake on his boat and he starts telling him about this woman he met, he's all too eager to listen._

_"Lovely creature, really," his friend was saying as he handed him a bottle of beer, "Beautiful, smart and funny…she's incredible."_

_"Is this the one you stood up last time?"_

_"Yeah, that one," he frowned, "And I did not stand her up."_

_"Yeah, when I leave a woman hanging, I don't call that standing up either," Kurt snorted._

_"Fine, but it wasn't as if I had a choice," he shook his head, "I'm lucky I managed to not make her hate me…she agreed to give me another chance and we had a fantastic date."_

_"Sounds good."_

_"It was," he grinned, "Never ran out of things to talk about…she's lovely. Amazing."_

_He smirked, "You sound like you really like this one."_

_"I do," he nodded, "Although I'm not quite sure if she's…as interested as I am."_

_"She tell you?" he doesn't mind that their talking might scare off the fishes, considering these trips were really more their way to just get away and relax. Although a catch wouldn't be a bad thing too._

_"Nah, but I just got a feeling, you know?" he shrugged, "She's giving me a chance so you bet I'm not screwing anything up. There might be someone else but he better be ready for competition…I'm not letting this one go."_

_He stared at him, "You sound serious."_

_"I am," His friend shrugged although he didn't miss the stupid grin on his face reemerging, "I'm willing to…well, do a lot of things. She's worth it, I think."_

_"Then good luck," they toasted the sentiment, "I'm sure the other guy has nothing on you."_

_They both chuckled, drinking together as old buddies would._

_"So, why don't you tell me about this one? I'm curious—if she's gotten you serious about being, er, serious, she must definitely be something."_

_And she was, from what his friend told him about the woman and Kurt was happy for his friend. It wasn't often he saw him show an actual interest in women other than sleeping with them then leaving. His friend was much less into the whole commitment thing than he was although he was careful about how he treated women. If he had found someone who could get him to try out being serious, then Kurt would wish her all the best._

_His friend wasn't bad, not really. He just needed to give settling down with someone a chance._

_Kurt was very supportive of his friend—Jack was one of his oldest friends and god knew he had the most interesting stories in his line of work. He wouldn't mind seeing him happy with a woman, just like he was at the moment with his lover now that they were giving their relationship another chance._

_Jack needed that too and he was more than willing to help out if there was ever a chance he could. And Kurt was ready, for whatever it may be, ready to be a good friend._

_That is, until Jack finally added the last detail to the conversation._

_"You've probably met her? Chicago's got a big law district, but she's pretty big in the business," he smiled, obviously proud. "She's the partner of Lockhart/Gardner."_

_Right then, Kurt McVeigh was pretty sure the world stopped turning._

_And stupid as it may seem, a part of him began to hope that somehow, there were two firms in Chicago that had the same name and they both just happened to be in the same chunk of Cook County that Jack was in charge of as a process server. Impossible, yes, but in a situation like this, what exactly was the protocol?_

_"Diane Lockhart."_

_He wasn't even sure he'd spoken, but from the way Jack suddenly lit up, he probably had, "So you've met her? Not on the wrong side of a case, I hope! She really is quite lovely, you know?"_

_Kurt was thankfully not given the chance to answer as Jack went on to describe the woman he had just left a voicemail for that morning before they drove off to the lake. He had taken her there only a week ago and while she may not have been entirely sold on the whole fishing idea, she seemed to have enjoyed herself. It had seemed perfect then._

_But what was she doing with Jack? His friend was indeed smitten, but the times he has spent with her had given him no reason to think she was interested in someone else. So what was Jack? And how could he have not known? He was pretty sure if she had mentioned having a new friend, he would remember—especially if said friend was one of_ his _friends._

_He didn't want to think she was cheating on him, intentionally being unfaithful and choosing to betray anyone like that. He knew her, at least, well, enough to know she was above such things. But he couldn't deny the look on Jack's face too. So what exactly was going on here?_

_As if the fates decided it was fun to make this situation even more awkward, his phone began to ring._

_Speak of the devil and he doth appear, as they say because as he glanced down at the screen of his phone, the name he had just uttered began to flash across his screen as well._

_Kurt McVeigh knows how to pick his friends._

_He's never had a problem with them, until now._

_Jack looked at him curiously, all too oblivious about the things swirling in his suddenly much too crowded head, "You gonna get that?"_

_Kurt looked down, his cellphone in his hand._

_Diane Lockhart was still lighting up the screen of his phone._

_Would he dare pick it up? Now?_

_Good question._

_Jack was a good friend of his and that was a big, big problem._

_Because as Diane Lockhart's name lit up the screen of his phone, Kurt was pretty sure he'd never quite felt the urge to punch Jack Copeland on the face as much as he did at the very moment._


	25. 04:00

Twenty-five:** 04:00**

_Diane Lockhart hated calls that came at four in the morning._

_She hated it even more that she is incapable of ignoring them as well, no matter if she'd only been asleep for an hour or three. A call during that time of the night meant many things, most of them serious and rarely ever a sign of good news. _

_Calls at that time in the morning when the sun isn't even anywhere near up were bad, bad news._

_She was sleepy enough to answer without checking the caller ID, "H-hello?"_

_No answer on the other end._

_"Who is this?" she asked, annoyed. She was ready to rip into whoever it was on the other end and she wasn't going to give a damn if it was Will or God Himself._

_"…Diane?"_

_"Yes?" she couldn't help the bitchy tone to her voice. In the back of her head, the voice was familiar but she was far too groggy, far too naked to give this one much thought._

_"What are you doing answering this phone?"_

_"What? Who is this? You called me."_

_A beat, "I didn't call you…I called this number. It's Jack."_

_"Jack who?"_

_"Jack…Copeland? We met when I served you? We went out on a date?"_

_"Oh, right," she sat up, suddenly awake, pressing sheets to her chest and hoping to god she hadn't woken up the sleeping lump next to her, "What-what can I do for you?"_

_"Not you, actually," Jack sounded almost uncomfortable and she wondered if she'd been_ too _bitchy, "I was calling a friend of mine…Kurt McVeigh?"_

_Diane stopped, her eyes growing wide and she was most definitely awake this time. She swallowed, denying the truth as she slowly removed the phone from her ear and looked at it. It was still a little dark but there was enough light for the damning truth to be revealed._

_She had picked up the wrong phone._

_And to what was worst, she was now finding out that maybe she and her lover had a few people in common after all. And Jack Copeland was apparently one of them._

_Hell of a way to find out at four in the morning while she was naked and bitchy and now, ready to crawl under a rock. She was pretty sure death would be more merciful._

_"…Diane?"_

_She placed the phone back to her ear—when did her mouth go so dry?_

_"Jack…?"_

_"So…you and Kurt?"_

_"Uh…" she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood and she pressed the sheets closer to her body, as if the man on the other end of the phone would be able to_ hear _her current state of undress._

_"Kurt…the business associate?"_

_"Well, actually—"_

_"My friend Kurt? The ballistics expert?"_

_"I didn't—"_

_"And obviously, you are_ not _in the office discussing business…"_

_"Jack—"_

_"Alright then," his tone was light and while she'd just been jarred awake, she wasn't a moron or brain dead—the strain was there. "I'm pretty sure this means Kurt is still asleep and won't be making our drive up to the Lake this morning."_

_"The lake? Jack, wait—"_

_"Some fishing to close off a stressful week, but judging by the time and what I am assuming, correctly I'm sure, where you might be at the moment," he went on as if she hadn't spoken, "He won't be needing the lake."_

_"Jack, please I—"_

_"Lovely speaking to you, Diane," he said, "Goodbye."_

_"Jack, I'm—"_

_Before she could finish her sentence, the other end of the line was dead._

_And Diane Lockhart could do nothing but stare at the empty screen of her lover's cellphone._

_"Diane?"_

_She turned, eyes wide and wondered what she'd done to warrant pitiful luck at such an ungodly hour, "Uh, yes?"_

_"What're you doing up?" Kurt sat up, groggy himself as he rubbed his eye._

_"Uh, phone," she said dumbly and tossed it aside, "It was nothing."_

_"Oh, okay," he mumbled, lying back down though he was facing her this time, "I gotta call a friend of mine to cancel something we planned this week. Mind handing me my phone?"_

_Diane glanced back at the phone she had just put aside then at her lover who now had his hand up for it. She was definitely sure she was at a loss at what to do then. And even while her mind tried to drum up ways to make this particular scenario work, she couldn't imagine getting out of this one unscathed._

_God, she thought, lovely morning indeed._


End file.
